Letting Go
by The Amazing Aliano
Summary: A letter written to the Doctor. It hurts now, but in time, it'll get better.


Dear Doctor

It's been a while since we said good bye. I just wanted, no, I needed to write this. There are things I need to say, even though it feels like my whole world will break when I do.

But first, how are you doing? Things aren't bad here, for the most part. Mum's had the baby, a little boy she decided to call Oliver. I know if you were here you'd have something to say about the name Oliver, I know I did, but mum was insistent. And dad was no help, he seems to like the name Oliver too, so Oliver he is.

My dad. At first he was rubbish with the baby, didn't know how to hold him and kept worrying about dropping him or him getting ill, but he's getting better. I kinda feel sorry for dad sometimes, he had this nice life and suddenly he has a fully grown daughter and baby to take care of. Not that he seems to mind. He used to ask me loads of questions about my life, what I used to do, that kinda thing. I think he's worried I'm not going to feel loved because everyone's so focused on the baby. I don't mind though. I'm happy for him and mum. And I'm happy because I've got my dad back, when I didn't think that would ever be possible.

Mum… well, you know my mum. She's worse than she used to be, if that's even possible. It's probably because she can't keep as sharp an eye on me, since she's got Oliver to worry about as well now. I don't mind, it gives me a chance to escape every now and then.

I went to the Powell estate here. Only it's not called that, it's called the Baden estate here. Actually, I go there a lot, just to think. Most of the time I find myself thinking of you, even though I don't mean to.

Sometimes I just want to talk to you so much. It doesn't have to be about anything important. We could just talk about something, I don't know, something like fleas, or the rate at which paint dries, and I'd be happy. I'd be content to just see you again. Even to be able to just sit with you in silence. Sometimes when I'm on my own I imagine you're there, sitting next to me. I find myself smiling when I do this, I can just picture you in my head sitting there next to me. It's nice. For a few moments I can delude myself into believing you're there. If I just reached my hand out far enough I'd be able to touch you. And then of course you'd make some remark about me prodding you, and I'd laugh… When I open my eyes I can't bring myself to look around though, to see that you're not there, so I just stand up and go, letting my imagination make you leave so that by the time I go back you're gone. It's easier that way. It doesn't hurt as much.

I guess that's why I'm writing this to you, even though you'll never read it. It makes the pain of not being with you hurt less. It's like getting over an addiction or cancer or something. I have good days and I have bad days. On good days I can go for hours without thinking about you, and when I do it'll just be something nice, like what you'd say in a conversation were you there, or the way you'd smile in that way that makes everything just that little bit brighter, and the memory will make me that little bit brighter too. And then I have bad days, where I miss you so much it feels like someone's pulling out my insides and all I want to do is cry. On those days I just can't think and everything reminds me of you. But I don't have anything that I can definitely say relates to you. Nothing except a key to a door I'll never reach. I put that somewhere safe and close by. Part of me hopes that one day it will glow and you'll be there, grinning at the cleverness of you for getting all the way to this universe. I know it won't happen, but I can't get rid of that key, any more than I can get rid of the hope. It's just there, pulling me through one day to the next.

Honestly, I get jealous sometimes. My imagination makes up this new girl you take with you, and she spends the rest of her life with you. She tells you she loves you and you smile and say… well, I don't know what you say. I never know what you'll say. I find myself hating this girl, even though she doesn't exist. I suppose someone will exist though. You're not one for staying on his own for too long. And I hope and pray with all my heart that you don't fall for her, even though I feel terrible for it afterwards. You deserve to be happy, more than anyone I know. If you find someone who makes you happy like that, then who am I to begrudge it you? And when I think that no one else could possibly ever love you as much as I do, I mourn the loss of us. I wish I could be there. I wish with every fibre of my being that I could be with you again, by your side for the rest of time. But wishing never gets us anywhere. If it did I would have become a princess when I was five. So in the end, I decide it would be better if you found someone to love you. Then you wouldn't be alone anymore. I hate the thought that you're alone. I want you to find someone, and even though it's selfish, more than anything I want that someone to be me. It'll never happen though, so I want you to find someone who deserves you.

I never knew what you were going to say, on the beach when I told you I loved you. In my mind, you tell me you love me, that you always have and you'll never stop looking for a way to get back to me. Somehow though, I don't think that's what you were going to say. It's what I wanted to hear, but would you have said it? Hearing those words, perhaps it would have made this all somehow more terrible. At the moment all I know for certain is that I love you, and I always will. If I knew I had your love in return, wouldn't being apart be even worse? Knowing that we could never even see each other ever again, that it's beyond our control. I don't know if you love me or not. I know you care, I know you don't want to be alone, but love? For me? I'll never know. Not knowing hurts, but I think it would hurt more knowing, one way or the other. At least this way I can imagine to myself that I had somehow earned your love.

Writing all this down both hurts and helps. It reopens these wounds in my heart, but it expresses everything I want to say to you. Emotions shouldn't be bottled up, I think, especially something like love. So I decided to pour my heart out onto paper. After I finish this… Well, I don't really want to think about after. I suppose I'll cry even more, until there's no tears left. Then I'll piece myself back together again, and I'll try to move on to a new place in my life. That's what hurts most. Having to move on. I can't sit and cry about this forever, though, mourning something I'll never get back. I have to live again. It feels a little like betrayal, to let go of you. But I won't be able to live unless I do.

I'll always cherish every memory I have of you, of being with you, of us. Even the ones where we came so close to dying, where the world nearly ended, where I was so scared of loosing everything. Because in the end you always made everything right again. You made my life better, and I don't want to cry about that anymore. I will smile about everything we had, and I will carry on living a better life, a fantastic life, because that's what you want for me. And you know what? That's what I want for me too.

Doctor, I love you. I always will. Even if I meet someone who makes me love them, part of my heart belongs to you, forever. So here I am, letting you go. It's hard, but I'll do it. I won't look at that key again, but I'll keep that little part of you. I won't cry over you anymore, but remember all the wonderful times with you and smile instead.

Live a fantastic life, Doctor. I hope you do.

With all the love in my heart,

Rose.

I don't know where this came from. I guess this is part of my trying to cope with the loss of Rose and the Doctor. The thing is, as much as I want them to be together, it's never going to happen. And as much as we resist it, people have to move on. Rose can't hold on to the Doctor forever. And we, in turn, can't hold on to Rose forever either.

As with other fics of mine, it was written under the influence of music. Mostly just the last half was. 'Eve, the Apple of My Eye' by Bell X1 is the song, if you want to check it out. If you're even interested.

Anyway, I'm going to get to work on my own original story now, although I might take advantage of the melancholic mood I'm in and carry on writing another Doctor Who fic I have in mind called 'Gravity.' We'll see.


End file.
